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In May of 2010, not long after I’d limped over the finish line of my first ever marathon in a time of 4:18, a friend looked up what time I’d need to run to achieve a BQ (Boston Qualifying) time and told me “well, that’s never going to happen.” Winding the clock forward seven years, I’m pleased (actually bloody ecstatic!) to say that in fact, last Sunday at The Light At The End Of The Tunnel Marathon, it just did. Read the rest of this entry »

Day 1 image

In 13 weeks I’ll run The Light At The End of the Tunnel Marathon. This will be my 14th marathon. Between now and then I have approximately 75 days of training. Today was day one.

I love day one because today is the day things kick-off. Just me, a goal, and a plan to get it done. No bells, no whistles, no fanfare. Just me, the open road, and my desire to test myself against the distance, the elements, and the physical and mental obstacles that will contrive on a daily basis to get in the way of my wish to run yet more marathons in 2017.

I love day one because it’s the day when I transition from the important but somehow more  mindless work of pouring the foundations, the easy-paced, base-building runs that establish an aerobic platform, to the more technical, more precise activities where time, distance, pace, heart rate and type of run all arrive on the schedule in a fairly remorseless and unforgiving manner. Six days a week of speed runs and strength runs, tempo runs and long runs – you can’t get your time if you don’t put in the time.

I love day one because I know that 75 days of training later, I’ll be stronger, fitter, and leaner (please God yes, leaner), than I am today.

More than anything, I love day one because I’m one day closer to one of my favorite places on earth – the start line.

I hope you can keep me company along the way.

Keep moving.


So here we go again. 18 weeks between now and the Brighton Marathon start line. 18 weeks of uphills and downhills, of good runs and bad runs, of aches, pains and soreness. 18 weeks of rain, wind, cold and snow. 18 weeks of the excitement of progress and the frustration of not going far enough, fast enough. 18 weeks of late nights and early mornings, of swearing at inconsiderate drivers (and cyclists, yes, especially the cyclists) and 18 weeks of losing myself in my thoughts and dreams while I run myself around Seattle and wherever else my travels take me, these coming months.

18 weeks of learning about myself, getting stronger, lighter (about 10lbs would do nicely), tighter, sharper, more active and more alive. 18 weeks of tempo runs and long runs, of cross training and yoga, of perfect tiredness and hot milky coffee after a long, cold weekend run.

More than anything, it’s 18 weeks of perfect joy, happiness and fun. 18 weeks until my most important start line ever.


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